On Our Isles of Delusion.

The ocean of clouds darkens red up above,
Shedding their coats and saltine tears.
The only thing remaining missing...
Is the calm to keep them all afloat.

As we now fade below this tempest,
Into the voided realm of catatonic sleep...
Every wink shall reveal a speck of daylight,
To die yet again with the spattered dusk...
And swallow up the shadow men.

For this gale will blow all into illusion.
Pollinate by seeds of confusion...
That washes ashore upon these isles...
Castles of thought caught between the waves..

A land being painted by seclusion...
The soil-work of emptiness.
I hear the palm-strummed choruses now,
Insanity driven in monotonic chords...
Hidden like whispers,
Under the cloak of the breeze.

Then those palms before me in shimmering waltz,
Stirring,
Weaving,
Waving, they dance.

Dancing until the stars part the skies into black,
Rain falling like bile upon their faces,
And deep into the pit that storms my soul.

But the calmness to keep it all afloat,
Is the only thing remaining missing.
Suspending the saltine tears like ice...
Under clouds colored crimson up above.

The gale tumbles all into illusion.
Once more, a scene plunged into confusion...
That washes ashore upon my isle,

Castles disappearing with the fade.